Tugging On Heartstrings
by LoveBugOC
Summary: A friendship blossomed. A bond strengthened. An attraction realized. A love unrequited. A love bloomed.
1. A Friendship Bloomed

Hello friends!

I found this on my computer, reread it, fixed it up and simply couldn't resist posting it. It was originally a one-shot, which I've broken up into five. Normally I would wait between each chapter to post, but: a) I don't want to wait, and b) I don't know when I'll be able to repost. I figured that even if I posted it all at the same time, the fact that it's in five different chapters will make it easier for you to read.-and this way you can stop in between chapters if you'd like.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! Feel free to leave a comment or two :)

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><p><strong>Tugging On HeartStrings<strong>

_[A friendship blossomed. A bond strengthened. An attraction realized. A love unrequited. A love bloomed.]_

X  
><em><strong>A friendship blossomed<strong>_

She's the one that started it, he remembers. Their friendship. If you could call it that at the time. Her _friends_sure didn't think it was. And if he's being completely honest, neither did he. Not really.

He was alone. He'd fallen from grace long before the war ended, but the aftermath didn't begin until he went back to Hogwarts. Nobody would talk to him; they talked about him, hushed tones in the classrooms, loud insults in the corridors, snickering and glaring during meals. Nobody wanted anything to do with him, and he couldn't blame them. For if he had the choice, he wouldn't have anything to do with himself either. But he was (is) a Malfoy, and Malfoy's don't complain-at least not in public. And so he kept his mouth shut-it wouldn't do him well to retaliate, given his state-and kept to himself. He sat at the back of the classroom, for it was easier to blend into the shadows and be forgotten. He travelled alone through the corridors, and sat alone at the Slytherin table during meals. He tried, as best as he could, to live like a ghost.

For the most part it worked.

And then she noticed him. She'd probably been noticing him all year (it was mid-October by now) but hadn't worked up that Gryffindor courage to do anything about it. He'd been studying in the library-the Slytherin common room was currently being occupied by the Slytherins, not to mention the lighting in the dungeons was terrible-sitting at a table in the back when she'd approached him. Confident, and with purpose. Like she knew exactly what she was doing. And like she wasn't reaching out to a Death Eater, who's family had tried to kill her and her friends. He'd watched her through his eyes lashes and his bangs as she sat down in the chair across from him and began studying. Neither of them actually spoke, but it was sort of nice having someone there who wasn't trying to bring him down.

It continued for weeks. Every time he was in the library, studying or writing a painfully long essay, she would sit with him-even if she was already sitting somewhere else. They never talked. Every now and then she would smile, and he would smile back, but that was it.

And then, one December evening, she speaks.

"So Christmas is coming up. Are you going home?"

Her voice nearly startles him right out of his seat, but he keeps his composure as he looks up. Part of him wants to smirk and tell her of course he is, he isn't about to stay _here_during the break where he'll be even more unwanted. Instead he just nods.

"Me too. Have you gotten all of your shopping done?"

He blinks, eyeing her skeptically.

"I'm sorry, I know it's probably a weird thing to ask, but I find it awkward sitting here and not even speaking. Unless, of course, you don't want to talk in which case I'll shut up. Or I can leave, if you'd like. I realize I just sort of thrust myself on you without even asking. If you don't want me to sit with you anymore you can tell me. Or don't, I'll just-"

"Stay."

One word. He finds the courage to say one word, and he curses himself for sounding so desperate.

She doesn't seem to notice, for she's probably too taken by the idea that he had actually spoken "Okay."

X

Two weeks before the Christmas break, she changes the rules. They aren't really rules, technically, as much they're just...unspoken guidelines. Because before now, they've kept their newfound friendship a secret from everyone, including her boyfriend and her best friend.

It's a Saturday morning when he sits down for breakfast alone at the Slytherin table. Most of the Slytherins are still in bed-some of them in someone else's bed-and being an early riser, he's come up to eat early. After grabbing what he likes from the buffet, he travels back to the end of the end of the table and sits down to eat. Moments later more peers walk into the Great Hall and take their seats at their respective tables, ignoring him completely. Two years ago he would've demanded their attention, but now he revels in the lack of it. He looks up as Potter and Weasley walk in-without Granger, he notices, and wonders briefly where she is. As if on cue, once her friends have already grabbed their plates, she walks in. They wave her over and she smiles, waving back. But instead of walking towards them, she starts walking towards _him_. His gaze catches hers and he looks questioningly at her, silently asking her what in the world she's thinking. She shrugs, and smiles at him as though it's the most natural thing in the world. Sure, in the privacy of the library it is, but outside of the library they're nothing but acquaintances. With more confidence than him these days, she walks straight to his table, leaving her friends (and most of the other students) gawking after as she grabs a plate.

"What are you doing, Granger?" he asks, his voice low.

"I'm getting something to eat, obviously."

"You know what I mean."

"I'm sitting with my friend for breakfast." She sits across from him then, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice.

He looks around the room at the glaring and shocked faces. "Everyone's staring, Granger"

"I don't care, do you?"

Truthfully? No. His reputation is already ruined. But hers... Over her shoulder he sees Weasley and Potter stalking towards them looking angry and betrayed. "Your...friends are coming over. And your boyfriend looks like he's going to explode."

He would've snickered if he wasn't mildly afraid for his life.

X

She defends him more than she probably should. He appreciates it, of course, more than she'll ever know, but still.

Potter and Weasley find him in the library three days before the Christmas holiday. He's waiting for her, and they know it.

"What have you done to her?" Potter demands.

He reckons they've been waiting all week to ask him. Instead of playing the 'I don't know what you're talking about' card, he gets straight to the point. "I haven't done anything to her."

"You've done _something_, why else would she befriend you?"

Because she's kind and friendly and she cares more about everyone else than she does about herself, he thinks. Truthfully though, he doesn't even know the answer to that. "Why don't you just ask her?"

"You've cursed her, haven't you Malfoy?" Weasley snaps. "You've made her pity you into being your friend."

"I'm gonna say it one more time fellas. I haven't done anything to her and I certainly don't need anyone's pity. If you want to know why she's befriended me, then ask her yourself."

He leaves the library feeling angry and confused.

X

He doesn't see her again until after the Christmas holidays. She's sitting in a compartment on the train with Weasley and Potter when he walks by. Her gaze catches his and he curses himself for looking inside. He keeps going, even as the door opens behind him and he hears her footsteps following him.

"You're avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not."

"Then why won't you stop to talk to me?" she counters, continuing to follow him.

"Alright fine, I am avoiding you," he admits.

"Why?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Y-You're joking right?"

"No, I'm not," he mutters, spinning around to face her, stopping her in her tracks. "Why does it matter to you? Why do _I_matter to you?"

"Because you're my friend-"

"Why, though, Hermione? Why did you befriend me? Why are you my friend?" They both ignore the fact that he's just called her by her first name for the first time.

"Where is this coming from-"

"Just answer the question Granger!"

"Draco..." she trails off, staring at him.

"Your boyfriend thinks I've cursed you. And Potter thinks I've done something horrible to you-"

"They what? They told you that?"

"They're not the only ones who think I've somehow tricked you into pitying me either, I'm pretty sure the whole school thinks I've done something unforgivable to you."

"Those...those idiots! They have no right to-I can't believe..."

"I can," Draco mutters.

"I'm your friend because I want to be Draco." There's truth to her voice, he notes.

"Why? I've been nothing but horrible to you," he reminds her, as though she could forget.

"Yes, well, you've changed since then. Besides, I've always known that you weren't really as dark and evil as you pretended to be. You didn't kill Dumbledore. You looked just as terrified as I felt at your house that day. And when your mother called you over to Voldemort's side in the courtyard you hesitated. Everyone deserves a second chance, and this is yours."

He didn't think anything she had to say would make him believe her. Nor did he think she would ever care enough to even bother to keep his friendship. She's just proven him wrong, twice, and he's never been more glad to be wrong. He feels a smile tugging at his own lips before watching one spread across hers as she hugs him. He blinks, hesitating before slipping his arms around her waist and hugging her back. He looks over her shoulder to see Potter and Weasley making a beeline for them, the latter's fists clenched at his sides in jealousy. Draco smirks at him, furthering the redhead's anger, before pulling away from her. "Potter and Weasley are coming up behind you."

"Good. I'd like to have a word with them."

He almost, _almost_, feels bad for the wrath they're about to face.


	2. A Bond Strengthened

_**A bond strengthened**_

He's angry. He probably shouldn't be angry at her, but he is. 

He's never been angry at her before either, and so the feeling is sort of strange and uncomfortable. But still, he can't help the anger from coursing through his veins or the feeling of betrayal from seeping into his pores. 

Two weeks ago she'd landed a job at the Ministry in the Care of Magical Creatures department. They'd celebrated that weekend-despite the fact that her boyfriend and her best friend still don't like him. Also despite the fact that he was just a little bit bitter about the fact that she's gotten the job in the first place. Of course he was happy for her, and she deserved it more than anyone. It's just that she'd landed it after just a week, while he'd been waiting months to hear back from the Auror Department. 

Up until this morning he'd come to the conclusion that he just wasn't Auror material-he's an ex Death Eater, after all-while Potter and Weasley still got of the glory. But, again, only until this morning. Because this morning he'd received a letter in the mail from the Auror Department asking him to come in for an interview. He would've been stoked, if it weren't for the mention of Granger's name somewhere near the end of the letter. 

He marches out of the elevator on her floor, earning several curious glances and a couple sneers from her coworkers. Without even acknowledging them, he barges into her office. 

"Hey Draco." 

"I need a word with you." 

"'Kay, gimme a minu-" 

"Now, Granger." 

She looks up at him finally, startled by the anger in his voice. "What's wrong?" 

"I got a letter from the Auror Department." 

"That's great!" 

"The only reason I even got the letter was because of _you_." 

"Oh, yeah, about that..." 

"I thought I told you I would handle it," he snaps. 

"You did, I just-" 

"-stuck your nose where it didn't belong." 

It's her turn to glare at him, folding her arms over her chest. "You should be thanking me-" 

"-thanking you? You've made me look like a complete idiot Granger!" 

"I was just trying to help, Draco-" 

"-I don't need your help! I don't need you to fight my battles for me and I don't need you using your Heroine status to get me a job." 

"Okay fine, I'll retract my letter of recommendation." 

"Great." 

"Brilliant." 

Silence falls between them in which they stand there awkwardly before she breaks it. "Are you going to the interview?" 

"I don't know-" 

"You have to!" She looks at him pleadingly. "Don't not go just because you're angry about the way that it happened. Don't throw an opportunity like this away just because you're mad at me." 

He can feel his resolve beginning to soften just looking at her, nevermind the tone of her voice. Nodding, mostly because he doesn't know what else to say, he turns on his heel to leave.

X

Twenty-four hours later, after taking the interview and accepting the position, he begins to feel increasingly guilty for the way he had treated her. He knows-he knew-that she had only done it to help him, out of the goodness of her beautiful heart. But it wasn't the act that had pissed him off. It was the fact that not only had she gone behind his back, she had done it after he had specifically told her not to. He didn't want her charity-even though she refuses to call it that. He didn't want to go through life, getting whatever he wanted just because she can make it happen, like he was poor and unworthy. 

And so, he picks up lunch on the way to her office the following day as a peace offering. This time when he steps off of the elevator, the glances he receives are timid and worried, like they're afraid of what he might say or do now that he's an Auror. And, unlike before, when he barged into her office unannounced, he knocks first before pushing the door open carefully and poking his head inside, to see if she's busy. 

She looks up from her desk, her eyes narrowing at the sight of him, and he walks in anyway, holding out her styrofoam container in an act of surrender. 

"It's your favourite." 

"What's the occasion?" she asks skeptically. 

"There's no occasion. I just want to apologize," he admits, placing the container on the desk in front of her before sitting down in the chair across from her and placing his own container in front of him. "I shouldn't have blown up at you the other day, I just-" 

"No, you were right. You asked me to stay out of it and I didn't listen. So _I'm_ sorry. I just...I knew how much it meant to you and-but still, I shouldn't have done it." 

He sighs, leaning back in the chair. "If it makes you feel any better I took the position." 

Her eyes seem to light up-or perhaps it's the light dancing around- and she smiles. "You did? That's great! See, I knew you would do well, you just needed a push. And they just needed some advice, that's all." 

He nods, opening his container and taking the first bite. 

She reaches across the table, placing her hand on top of his. "Everybody needs somebody to look out for them Draco, even you. And it doesn't make you weak to admit it." 

He smirks then, shaking his head. "What in the world would I do without your wisdom, huh?" 

Her only response is that stunning smile, and that's more than enough.

X

Her parents have been fighting a lot lately, and so naturally, Hermione's been spending a lot of the time worrying about the effects it'll have on her family. All the while he spends most of that time worrying about her. She doesn't eat as much as she used to, and more often than not she's running around trying to fix everybody else's problems because she can't fix her own. 

One night, a week prior, she had turned up on his door step with a tub of ice cream and told him everything. She told him that her being a witch had thrown her parents for a loop from the very start. They'd bounced back, of course, but it wasn't quite the same as it was before. And then when Voldemort came back, the issue of her safety had nearly torn her house in half, for her mother wanted to keep her at home while her father felt that it would be safer at Hogwarts, where Dumbledore could protect her. And yet it wasn't until she had found them in Australia after the war and given them back their memories that things really began to fall apart. It's like they just weren't the same people anymore.

They were constantly fighting, always miserable while trying to make the other miserable. 

And it's only getting worse, to the point where she's begun to fear the worst-a divorce. 

The whole time she had explained the situation-calmly and over ice cream and homemade coffee-he had just sat there and listened. By the time she was finished she had thanked him. "It's different talking to you about this. I hate talking to Ron or Harry about it," she had admitted. And when he asked why, her reply had been simple. "Because you just listen. You let me vent and you let me worry and then you hug me. Ron always has to tell me that everything is going to be okay, or that I'm jumping to conclusions and Harry just always wants to fix things. It's nice, sometimes, but right now it's just...I'm glad I can talk to you." 

That statement alone had meant more to him than her getting him the job in the Auror department (which he is currently kicking arse in.) Because it means that not only does she care, she trusts him too.

Truly trusts him. 

Today, he's about to realize, is no different. He's just gotten out of the shower when there's a knock at his front door. Cursing to himself, he dries the rest of himself off with his wand before quickly pulling on a pair of trousers and a t-shirt. There's another knock as he reaches for the doorknob, catching a glimpse of her unruly hair through the side window. He chuckles softly, pulling the door open. "How many times do I have to tell you Granger, you don't have to knock," he teases. His teasing smile fades though when he sees the tears gathered in her eyes and her quivering bottom lip as she looks up at him, dripping in sadness and betrayal.

And he knows.

He reaches out to her, wrapping his right arm around the back of her neck and his left around her shoulders as he pulls her into his chest. As if on cue she begins to sob into the material of his shirt as he pulls her inside and closes the door. 

Five minutes later they're sitting out on his balcony, both nursing a cup of tea. He watches her tentatively as she runs her fingers along the rim of the porcelain cup. 

"I can't believe they're getting a divorce. I mean, I can believe it, obviously, but I just...I don't want to believe it," she whispers. 

"I don't think anybody wants to believe that they're parents have failed at something," he replies softly. 

"I'm pathetic, aren't I? Twenty-two and I'm crying because my parents are divorcing..." 

"Not at all, Luv. I reckon it's completely normal." 

Finally, he receives a smile. 

"I haven't spoken to Ron or Harry yet, so can you just keep this to yourself for now?" 

"Honestly, Granger, why would I speak to them?" 

She rolls her eyes playfully, taking a sip of her tea. "Thanks by the way, I owe you." 

"You don't owe me anything. If either of us owes the other anything it's me." 

She smiles, shaking her head as she pulls her knees up to her chest. 


	3. An Attraction Realized

_**An attraction realized**_

He's always known she was attractive. Even at school, even when he was a snotty, stuck up bully, he knew she was attractive. Her bushy hair often had him wanting to pull it and push his hands through it both at the same time. Her dark brown eyes gave him nightmares of the best kind. Her know-it-all mouth, those luscious pink lips, often had him fantasizing about her in more ways than one. But he had chalked it up to being a horny, stupid little teenager who wanted to break the rules and break _her_ all at once. 

Those thoughts had escaped him in their sixth year, with the impending thoughts of his mission and by the time she had befriended him in their seventh (eighth) year he'd forgotten all about them. 

Until now. 

Because last night has changed the way, he's sure, he'll ever be able to think about her again. They'd gone out for her 22nd birthday, to a muggle club of her choice. It was not, however, her choice to go to a muggle club to begin with, for she had told him in confidence that she would've rather they go to hers and Ron's flat, drink a little bit of wine and play a board game or two. It had been Ginny's idea all along.

He remembers telling her that she should stand up for herself and refuse to go out, but she claimed that she would 'feel bad for ruining everyone's hopes'. 

And so there they'd been: her, him, Weasley, Weaslette, Potter, Looney Lovegood and Longarse. In a muggle club. With alcohol. Suffice to say, he felt extremely out of place in such a small room filled with sweaty and busy muggles. He was, however, sort of turned on by the women. After buying the birthday girl a shot, and then taking a shot of his own, and after finding his confidence and his Malfoy charm, he began to work the room while she sat back and laughed. 

Somewhere between his sixth beer/third shot, and her fifth cocktail/fifth shot, Ginny had finally managed to drag her onto the dance floor. And over the shoulder of a lovely blonde, who quite fancied his charm, he couldn't help but watch her. She was mesmerizing in the way that her body moved, slick with sweat and quick with rhythm, and the way her hair- that she had taken out of its 'stylish' pony tail-flew around and stuck to her face. He wondered briefly where her boyfriend was and how jealous he was that everybody (mostly males) was captivated by her before deciding that he didn't really care. 

She was beautiful and sexy and exotic and Merlin, those thoughts were quickly coming back. Her hair wrapped around his fingers. Her eyes looking up at him with need and desperation. Her mouth… 

Half an hour later she had found him at the counter, black streaks down her cheeks and her hair in knots. She's been crying-and he has the sudden urge to hex whoever hurt her. She told him that Ron was mad at her for 'flaunting herself around'. They'd had a fight and he'd left her standing outside of the bar. The urge to hex him into the next century was stronger than it's ever been. 

He'd brought her back to his flat, and after calming her down enough to get her into his bed (without him), she'd passed out the second her head hit the pillow. And he'd watched her, for a while, to make sure she was asleep before transfiguring his couch into a bed and laying back, allowing sleep to take over.

And now here he is, hours later, staring at her back as she makes two cups of coffee, completely oblivious to his presence. She's since changed out of her fancy birthday dress, having clearly dug around in his dresser for a pair of boxers and a t-shirt and her hair is thrown into a careless bun on the top of her head. And damn, she looks good. _Really good_. Obviously she always looks good, but there's something about the way she wears his clothes.. 

She jumps, startled, when she turns around, placing her hand over her heart and giggling to herself. He's too busy picking his jaw up off the floor and wiping the drool off his chin to conjure an apology. 

"So, I'm sorry, about last night. I didn't mean to just...dump myself on you like that," she says softly, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear as she hands him his mug. 

"It's okay, I wasn't about to just leave you alone," he replies, adding mentally: like some people. 

"Mmm," she mutters awkwardly, taking a sip of her own mug. "Still, thanks. And, sorry I took your clothes, it's just that that dress was really uncomfortable when I woke up this morning." 

He shrugs, smiling softly. "You wear them well." 

"I do, do I? Better than you?" she teases. 

"Significantly." 

They spend the rest of the morning talking and teasing and joking about the night before-avoiding the subject of Ronald Weasley, which he's all too happy to oblige. He may be able to tolerate the man, but he still doesn't like him. He likes him even less now, not only for making her birthday all about him, but also for making her so bloody upset on her fucking birthday. She, in his opinion, could do so much better. 

They're half way through eating breakfast in the living room when her phone rings. He knows who it is before she even checks and she frowns uncertainly. When she looks back up at him, for approval as well as advice, he shrugs indifferently despite the voice in his head wanting to tell her to ignore the git and move on. And then she apologizes before walking out onto the balcony and answering it. He watches her as she paces back and forth on the other side of the French doors, and suddenly he wants nothing more than to push her up against the nearest wall and make wild and crazy and passionate love to her. She fingers the fabric on his shirt at her waist and he imagines them running over his back and his arms and- 

He's pulled out of his thoughts-albeit grudgingly-when she walks back in, looking guilty and apologetic.

And he already knows what she's going to say. 'He says he's sorry- 

"-and that he wants to talk." 

Draco nods, looking away from her disappointed. "Right, well then go get changed and I'll clean up," he replies, pushing himself to his feet. 

"I'm sorry. And I know you don't approve, but-" 

"It isn't about me, Granger, it's about you. And if this is what you want then I can't stop you." 

She nods, smiling sheepishly at him, her eyes soft and warm. He has an urge to drown himself in their beauty. _Merlin, she's beautiful_. Even when her hair is a mess and her make-up is smudged, and her eyes are puffy from crying.

X

He hasn't seen her in weeks. It isn't necessarily entirely his fault, because the case he's working on at work is taking up a lot of his time, but he is definitely at fault too. After rediscovering his attraction to her on her birthday, and then reinforcing it a day later, he spent many sleepless nights, tossing and turning because he couldn't get her out of his head. All he thought about, dreamed about, fantasized about was herher_her_. Her, in dresses and lace and leather and sweats. Her, with her hair up and down and wild and crazy. 

He misses her of course, her voice and her laugh and her smile. But he can't bring himself to visit her or call her for fear of what he might do (kiss her) or not do (not be able to not kiss her). That, however, doesn't stop her from coming to see him. 

He walks into his office, after running out to grab something to eat, to find her sitting in his chair behind his desk. He freezes when he sees her, mid-step as he takes a bite of his apple. She smiles at him, that smile that tells him that he's in trouble. He smiles back sheepishly. 

"Hey." 

"Hi stranger," she replies innocently. 

He sighs, closing the door behind him as he shrugs off his jacket and throws it on a chair in the corner of the room. "Okay, look-" 

"Oh so you do know, do you? Go ahead, explain." 

"I've been really busy..." 

"Mhmm, so have I, and I've always still made the effort-" 

"That's different," he points out defensively. 

"How? It's the same thing-" 

"No, it's not. We work in completely different departments. We have completely different responsibilities-" 

"Oh, so what you're saying is that your job is more important than mine!" 

"No!" Out of the corner of his eye he catches a glimpse of a few of his co-workers looking in through the window in the door. He curses inwardly, and with a flick of his wand the blinds are shut and the room has a much needed silencing spell on it. He looks back at Hermione, who's staring at him with disappointed, curious brown eyes. He sighs softly, placing his hands on his hips. "I'm sorry, okay? I've just been really busy the last couple weeks and-" 

"Are you mad at me?" 

He blinks. "Why would I be mad at you?" 

"Because I forgave Ronald so easily..." she whispers. 

He sighs again, shaking his head. Yes, he is a little bit mad at her for that. But he'll never tell her. Just like he'll never tell her the real reason he's been avoiding her. "No, I'm not mad you. You would know if I was mad at you, you know that. I've just been busy." 

She rolls her eyes, pushing herself to her feet and then walking past him towards the exit. "Fine, whatever." 

He reaches his hand out to grab her wrist, letting go immediately as shivers crawl up and down his spine.

She looks at him expectantly.

"This weekend, I'm free. We can go out to lunch or see a movie. If you want?" 

Finally, a smile graces her lips. "I'll call you." 

And as she leaves, Draco Malfoy is certain of only one thing. He's doomed.


	4. A Love Unrequited

_**A love unrequited**_

He hates her. Absolutely, positively hates her. 

Okay, so that's a bit of a lie. He doesn't hate her, quite the opposite in fact. And _that_ is why he hates her. 

Dislikes her, slightly. Only a little bit. 

Perhaps not even at all. 

The point is...okay, so he doesn't exactly know his point. But he knows, for absolute certain, that he'd be much better off if he did hate her. Because perhaps then it wouldn't be so bloody difficult to be her _friend_. Her _just_ friend. Nothing-and by nothing, he means absolutely _nothing_-is worse than falling in love with your best friend, knowing full well that you can't have her. 

That's right, _love_. 

That sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever he sees her. The flush that covers his cheeks when he catches himself staring; praying that she doesn't catch him too. That anger-pure and raw and animalistic-when she's with _him_. That feeling of jealousy when _he_ touches her, or kisses her, or holds her bloody fucking hand. 

He's never hated anybody more than Ronald Weasley. 

He's never hated himself more either.

His 23rd birthday falls on a Saturday. So naturally, everyone decides to take him out on the town-and by 'everyone' he means Hermione, Ginny and Potter. Weasley couldn't care less about his birthday. Luna pretty much does whatever anyone wants her to do. And Neville is basically neutral. At first he isn't even sure he wants to go out-or even celebrate. But then the more he thinks on it, the more he realizes that perhaps it's exactly what he needs. Perhaps all he needs is a night on the town, a little bit of hard liquor and a couple of beautiful ladies to keep him company. Perhaps this...thing...he feels for Granger is just that after all. A thing. 

And yet he spends the first part of the night watching Hermione and Weasley practically get it on in a booth in the corner of the pub. Okay, so she's much too reserved to get anything on in a public place, but Weasley keeps on trying and trying and trying, and all Draco wants to do is rip him apart. 

He downs his sixth shot of the night when someone sits next to him. That someone has black hair and glasses, and that I-know-what-you're-doing look. "What?" he snaps. 

"You're in love with her." 

Draco blinks, staring at him. "I'm sorry, in love with who?" 

"Hermione." 

The blond hesitates (which he'll realize later is his downfall), shifting uncomfortably on the bar stool as he stares into the empty shot glass. "Don't be ridiculous, of course I'm not." 

"I'm not a genius, but I'm not an idiot either Malfoy. I've seen the way you look at her." 

Draco clears his throat. "Alright, let's for arguments sake say that I am in love with her. So what?" 

Harry shrugs, crossing his arms over the top of the bar counter. "Nothing. I was just making an observation, that's all." 

"You're an arse, Potter." 

"So you _are_ then." 

"Not for long." 

"Oh? And how will you manage that?" 

"Simple. My charm and good looks of course." 

Harry snorts loudly. "Alright." 

"I'm going home with someone tonight Potter. You'll see."

And he does. Go home with someone, that is. And that someone is a busty blonde, who is quite...talented, in certain...areas. And yet he spends the whole time wishing he was with _her_.

X

He wonders sometimes if she knows. And then he stops wondering because he knows it's no use. 

She's happy. And that's all that matters, right? 

It's a Saturday when his entire world changes. He's only been awake for ten minutes when she walks into his flat, clad in a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He looks at her skeptically at first. "Hey, did uhh...did we have plans?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck guiltily. 

She laughs softly, rolling her eyes. "No. But if we did, you'd be in a huge amount of trouble," she teases. 

He breathes a sigh of relief, smiling at her. "Alright then, what brings you here on this fine Saturday morning?" 

She shakes her head playfully, placing her hands on her hips and straightening herself out. "Notice anything different about me?" 

He cocks an eyebrow, looking her up and down skeptically. _Merlin, she's fantastic_. He takes a moment to take in her curvy figure. Focus, he tells himself. Focus. "No..." he trails off hesitantly, eyeing her suspiciously. 

"Look closer," she replies. 

And he does. The second he sees it, his stomach hits the floor and he's fairly certain his heart stops beating. He almost stops breathing too. The silver piece of jewelry around her left ring finger glares at him and the diamond attached to it twinkles in the sunlight seeping in through the living room window, taunting him. He can hear it now, Weasley's annoying little voice boasting. He blinks, his gaze snapping up to her face and then back down at the ring. "He proposed..." 

She squeals then, very unlike herself, as she throws her arms around his shoulders. He barely feels her body colliding with his because all he feels is numb. He forces himself to wrap his arms around her waist.  
>"Isn't it great?" she exclaims excitedly. She pulls away from him, taking a second to admire the ring before walking around him towards the kitchen. "I was just telling Ginny the other day that I didn't think he'd ever propose, and then last night he took me out for dinner and-" <p>

He stops listening. Her voice is like white noise to him as his life flashes before his eyes. His cold, lonely life. He sees himself, single and miserable, while she has children and lives a long, happy life with _him_. He sees himself on the outside, looking in. Just as it's always been. And he hates it. He hates the thought of her being with someone else-anyone else but him. More importantly he hates himself not being able to be with her. That jealousy and rage bubbles inside him and he thinks for a moment that he might explode. 

"-you have no idea how much this means to me Draco. I've been waiting for this for...my entire life," she says softly, smiling to herself. He watches her intently. "I mean, I know it doesn't seem like I care about that traditional love stuff, but it's nice, you know? To know that somebody loves you like that, it's...well, there's nothing like it." 

He smiles firmly, his lips thin and tense. Forced. 

She plops herself down on the couch, patting the cushion beside her with a smile and he obliges grudgingly. "I'm getting _married_ Draco!" 

"You _are _getting married-" 

"There's gonna be so much to plan. You'll help, right?" 

"Me? I dunno Granger-" 

"Oh, c'mon! You have to!" she insists. 

"I don't think I can-" 

"Ginny's my maid of honor so she'll be taking care of mostly everything with me, but I'll need your opinion to," she says softly. 

He sighs, pushing himself to his feet and running his hands through his hair. He wants to say no. He wants to flat out refuse to have anything to do with it. But then he looks at her, and she's giving him that look. That look he loves and hates at the same time. "You don't need me." 

"You're one of my best friends Draco, I'll always want your opinion." 

He smirks inwardly, because he knows that if he were to give her his honest opinion, she'd hate it. 

"Please? It would mean the world to me," she whispers. 

He groans, rubbing his hands over his face. "Okay, yeah. Fine." 

She squeals again, even more unlike herself than the first time. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Ahhh! This is so exciting, I can't believe this is happening," she murmurs, more to herself than anything. 

And as she continues to ramble on and on about the upcoming wedding, Draco sits back down on the couch and wonders, quite bitterly, when Merlin will stop torturing him.

X

He wants to kill himself. Okay, so killing himself seems a bit drastic, doesn't it? Yes. But he definitely wants to hex himself. 

Yes, hexing himself sounds about right. 

It's one thing, he realizes, for a man to be sitting in a wedding gown shop waiting for his best mate to finish trying on dozens of different gowns. But it's an entirely different thing for said man to be in love with said best mate-a bride that could never be his. 

She's beautiful. Stunning really, in every single dress. She's got that 'bridal' glow about her and that dazzling smile and she just looks so...happy. And he just feels so bloody miserable. (Honestly, what did he ever do to deserve this kind of heart break? That's a rhetorical question...) 

He sits, dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and an old polo shirt, on a couch outside of her dressing room. His arms are crossed over his chest as he stares straight ahead at the glass coffee table in front of him. Shouldn't Ginny be here? Or her mother? Or even Potter? Why did she have to choose him, of all people, to pick out her wedding gown? 

Out of the corner of his eye he catches a glimpse of pure white and his gaze follows it to the side as Hermione emerges from behind her dressing room curtain in another white gown. All of the other ones looked the same, but this one...this one is different. As opposed to girly and frilly and extravagant, this one is classic and elegant and...Merlin, is it hot in here all of a sudden? And where did all the oxygen go?  
>His eyes are glued to her, unable to look away and yet wanting so desperately to run in the other direction. This is torture. Absolute, heart crushing torture. <p>

"Can you do me up?" she asks, turning around so that her back is to him. 

He swallows the lump in his throat as he steps forward, lifting shaky hands to do up the zipper on the back of her dress. The back dips down so low, even after doing up the zipper, that it almost makes his imagination run wild. Her skin is soft and smooth under his knuckles when they brush against her back to do up the clasp. She smells like vanilla and cherries and her hair is pulled back into a sloppy pony tail, showing off the smooth curve of her shoulders and her neck. It would be so easy, he thinks, to dip his head down and kiss her neck… 

He clears his throat as he pulls himself back, afraid of what he might do if he lingers any longer. 

She turns back around, smiling as she walks around him to the small podium, looking at herself in the various mirrors. "So what do you think?" 

He blinks, staring at her through the mirror. 

"Draco?" 

"Hmm?" 

"What do you think?" 

"I think you should've tried this on ages ago," he replies casually, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

She smiles, swaying from side to side to check all angles on the dress and the way it falls down to the floor. "I think this is the one." 

He smiles back, despite the pain of jealousy ripping through him. 

"Plus I think Ron'll love it," she gushes happily. 

He nods, walking back to the couch to sit down. He can't keep looking at her when she's looking like that-all beautiful and flawless and _so completely_ off limits. He might do something he'll regret otherwise, and she might never speak to him again. Closing his eyes, to shake away the thoughts and feelings plaguing him, he leans forward with his head in his hands. 

"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice suddenly deeper and worried. 

"Yeah, just tired," he mutters. 

"Are you sure?" she asks skeptically as she walks around the couch to sit beside him. 

"Are you sure you should be sitting in that dress-" 

"It's fine. And stop changing the subject. You've been acting weird for weeks now," she notes. 

Gee, I wonder why, he thinks bitterly. "I'm fine." 

"No, you're not. I know you, Draco. And I know when something's bothering you, so tell me." 

"There's nothing to tell." 

"Draco..." 

"Just leave it alone, okay?" he yells, pushing himself to his feet rather suddenly. She jumps slightly, startled. "Contrary to popular belief Granger, you don't need to know everything because not everything is about you," he snaps. 

And he regrets it immediately. Especially when she frowns, looking away as she pushes herself to her feet. Guilt washes over him as she glances back at her reflection one last time before disappearing into her change room and pulls the curtain closed. He sighs, leaning against the wall next to the curtain. "I'm sorry," he says softly, realizing he's never snapped at her like that before. Not since their rival days at Hogwarts anyway. "It's just...it's something I need to work through on my own, you know?" 

He knows by her silence that she understands because if she didn't, she'd tell him.

X

He hasn't seen her in weeks. And for the first time it's not because he's been avoiding her. It's because she's been avoiding him. At first it might've been a blessing. She was giving him the space he had so desperately needed. And yet now that he's got it, he doesn't want it. 

It's a Tuesday, three weeks before the set date of the wedding, when he corners her in her office. She tries to dismiss him by saying that she's far too busy to talk, but he ignores her, leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. 

"Will you just, please, go?" she begs of him, not even looking up from her desk. 

"Sorry, no can do. See, you've been avoiding me and I want to know why," he tells her. 

"Well, I suppose now you know how it feels," she mutters. 

He smirks, knowing he deserves that. "Regardless, I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me." 

She glares up at him. "_Me_, talk to _you_? Well that's rich, considering you're the one who won't tell me what's wrong with you," she reminds him. 

"So that's what this is about. You're mad because you can't figure it out." 

"I'm mad because I tell you everything, and you can't even tell me what has your mind so bloody worked up that you can't even look me in eye!" she yells, pushing herself to her feet. 

He sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. "You really wanna know? You really wanna know what I'm thinking?" 

"Yes." 

"You really wanna know what's on my mind?" 

"Y-Yes." She stutters, like she isn't quite sure she really wants to know anymore. 

"Fine. I think you're mad," he tells her honestly. "I think you're making the biggest mistake of your life right now by marrying Weasley. I think you can do so much better than him and you don't even realize it." He walks across the room, stopping in front of her. "There is so much for you to be doing, so much that you can do and gain. And you're settling for a...Weasel who has no _idea _what he has. He doesn't treat you the way you deserve to be treated but you're either too blind or too stupid to realize it-" 

"-you don't know what you're talking about-" 

"I also think that there could be a hundred guys out there waiting for their chance with you, knowing they can be better for you than some poor, red headed Weasel, but they'll never get the chance because you're too scared to admit that you're not really as happy as you could be. Content, sure, but not happy." 

She bites the inside of her cheek, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly. "Okay, fine. Enlighten me. If there's so many men out there who want to be with me, then why haven't I met them yet, huh?" 

He smirks, shrugging his shoulders. "Perhaps you already have, and you just don't realize it." 

"Oh yeah? And who would-" 

He kisses her. He doesn't know why he thinks it's a good idea, particularly because he knows it's a very bad idea, but one second she's looking at him all wounded and demanding and the next, he's kissing her. His hands are cupping her face and his lips are firm, but tentative upon hers. Her lips are soft and silky and plump. He runs his tongue along her bottom lip, begging for entrance. She moans, and he takes advantage of it, slipping his tongue into her mouth as her arms slip around his neck and pulls him closer. He moans back, tasting her and savoring her and wishing to fucking Merlin that he could keep her. 

She pulls away first, pushing back on his chest, gasping for air. "Wha...what was that?" 

"I'm that man," he whispers, his voice hoarse. 

Her eyes widen in shock and then narrow in confusion as she backs away, shaking her head silently. "You...no, no...you can't." 

He clears his throat, backing away towards the door. "I should go..." And with that he turns on his heel, too much of a coward to tell her how he really feels.


	5. A Love Bloomed

_**A love bloomed**_

It's a Saturday. But it's not just _a_ Saturday, it's _the_ Saturday. The day of the wedding; _her_ wedding. The day he gives her up, once and for all. But instead of dressing in his finest robes and going bright and early to ensure that everything is as it should be, like he had originally planned, he's sitting back on his fine leather couch, sipping tea and eating a bowl of his favourite cereal. His plans now, as luck should have it, are to forgo the wedding entirely. 

He lifts his legs, placing his feet on the top of the coffee table when his fireplace rumbles. The blonde groans, knowing it could be a number of people come to yell at him and demand why he isn't where he should be. He should've blocked the Floo today. 

Potter emerges from the green flames, brushing the soot from his shoulders as he walks into the living room. "You need to clean your fireplace." 

"I'll get right on that," Draco mutters sarcastically, turning his attention back to his Saturday morning cartoon on the television. 

"Why aren't you dressed?" 

"I'm sure you can figure that out for yourself Potter, surely you aren't that stupid." 

Harry rolls his eyes. "You're making a mistake you know. She'll never forgive you if you don't go-" 

"Well forgive _me_ Potter_,_ but she hasn't talked to me in weeks. How should I know that she even still wants my company?" 

The raven haired man scoffs then, folding his arms over his chest. "This isn't about you being under the impression that she doesn't want you to be there because you know full well that she wants you there. This is about you, and the fact that you don't want to watch her marry someone else." 

"And so what if it is Potter? Why do you care?" 

"Because I care about Hermione. And if you truly cared for her, you'd put aside your own selfishness and go to her wedding because she wants you to be there," Harry tells him. 

"I care about her Potter, more than you'll ever know. But I can't sit there and watch her make a mistake-" 

"I'll disregard that you just said that because Ron is my friend. But even if she _is_ making a mistake, it's her mistake to make, not yours." 

Draco rolls his eyes and then glares at the man standing before him. "What do you get out of coming here then, Potter?" 

"Nothing. I just wanted to make sure that you know that if you don't show up, she'll never forgive you." 

That's all Potter says before he leaves. 

That's all Potter has to say. 

A half drunken cup of tea, half a bowl of cereal and a blaring television are left Draco's wake.

X

He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be going to see her at all, let alone in the privacy of her own room, just hours before she says 'I do' to somebody else. He should just take his seat on her side of the guest list and be done with it. Surely she'd see him sitting in the front row, next to her parents. Right?  
>But nevertheless, here he is making his way toward the room at the end of the hall. The bridal quarters. He takes a deep breath before turning the handle and pushing the door open. There, across the room, stands a beautiful bride, dressed in an equally (but not nearly as important) white gown. Her back is to him as she looks out the window, gazing at the vast country side the Burrow has to offer. His stomach drops with an imaginary thud and his heart beats into overtime as he walks in quietly so as not to disturb her. He closes the door behind him, and she must hear the lock click into place because she spins around to face him, her curls blowing behind her. She blinks, surprised to see him. He smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Hey..." <p>

"Hi..." she whispers back, smiling softly. 

"You look...you look beautiful," he murmurs. 

"Thanks." She tucks a loose strand of her hair behind her ear-and is that blush on her cheeks or her cheeks blushing? 

"So I wasn't gonna come today," he admits, walking closer to her. "For...obvious reasons. But you've got a good friend in Potter-and a convincing one at that. He truly cares about you. And he made me realize that I care about you and your happiness more than I care about mine. I care about you more than I love you." 

Her eyes are wet with tears and when one escapes he wants nothing more than to reach out and wipe it away, but he keeps his hands (and lips) to himself. 

"But I can't stay. I came here to tell you that I want you be happy, I want you to do what makes you happy. And if marrying Weasley makes you happy then do it. I'll be here after, just as I've been here before but I can't...I can't watch it happen." 

"Why?" 

"Because as much as I care…I can't force myself to-" 

"No, why do you love me?" she asks softly, looking up at him with curious, thoughtful eyes. 

"I can't answer that," he mutters. 

"I deserve to know, don't you think?" 

"I can't answer because I don't know. I don't know _why_ I love you. I don't know _how_ I love you," he admits softly. "But I do know that you make me wild and crazy in the best way. I know that when I'm with you I feel like I can do anything I want to do and be anything I want to be. I want to be a better person because of you. I want to be someone you can be proud of, someone you can confide in. You make me happy without even trying and I want nothing more than for you to be happy. I want you to laugh and smile all the time because I love them both. And I never want you to cry because I hate it. You've been tugging at my heartstrings for years, Granger. I just hadn't realized it." 

She smiles weakly, through the silent tears slipping down her cheeks. And this time he can't refrain from wiping them away, brushing her cheek with his thumb. And then suddenly he's leaning in and he hears her breath catch in her throat as he presses his lips to her temple. "Be happy Granger." 

He leaves then, without another word or a second glance. Had he looked back he might've seen her reaching for him.

X

He fucking hates his life. And he fucking hates the stupid Weasel for ruining his life. And he fucking loathes himself for going and falling in love with someone he had no business falling in love with.

He's currently in the middle of throwing things around his flat, releasing all of his pent up anger and frustrations. She'll be married in ten minutes. Ten minutes and she'll belong wholeheartedly to another man. And it hurts, so fucking much. He feels as though he's going to throw up and stop breathing all the same time. And he vows, from this day forward, to never let another woman weasel (no pun intended) her way into his fucking heart again. Ever. Never, ever, again. 

The doorbell rings and he pauses, mid-pitch of the TV remote. He groans, tossing it gently on the couch before stumbling over a variety of other items he'd decided to throw across the room towards the front door. And when he opens it his heart stop entirely. His stomach jumps into his throat and it's like someone's knocked the wind right out of him. 

Looking back him, with glassy eyes and mascara streaks down her cheeks, clad in her white wedding gown and perfectly curled hair, is Hermione Granger. He takes a moment to look her up and down, notices the absence of the wretched ring on her finger, and pinches himself before he lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Hermione, what...what are you doing here?" 

"I hate you," she whispers. Her voice is barely audible, but then he doesn't need to hear her because it's written all over her face. She stalks past him, pushing him to the side and slamming the door shut. "I fucking hate you, Draco Malfoy!" 

"Granger-" 

"You-you selfish, self-centered little...man! Why couldn't you just keep your feelings to yourself like a normal man? Why'd you have to go and ruin everything?" 

"What are you talking about?" he asks incredulously. 

"You ruined everything! I was perfectly fine thinking that you didn't have feelings for me. I was perfectly happy marrying Ron and living happily ever after with him and then you go and..." she trails off, breathing heavily as she searches for the right words. "I left my fiancé and my family because of you," she mutters, more to herself than anything. 

"I'm sorry...because of me? Why?" he wonders, confused. Surely she didn't mean... No, no she's probably just so angry at him that she had to postpone the ceremony so that she could come and bite his head off in private. 

"Because...because I love you. I left my fiancé at the alter because I love _you_…" 

He blinks. "You...you what..?" 

"I love you, you imbecile! God...I..." she trails off, pacing the length of his living room while holding the bottom of her dress up off the floor so that she doesn't trip over it. 

He watches her, hesitantly. He still isn't sure if he's hearing her correctly, or if it's his mind playing tricks on him. "I don't understand, Granger..." 

"Neither do I," she admits softly, stopping to look at him. Her eyes are full of fear and passion. And love. "I don't get it either. I don't get why when you said that you loved me I felt all warm and gooey inside. I don't get why when you kissed me a few weeks ago it was like I was flying and falling at the same time. All I've been able to think about is you and when I would see you again and if I would see you again and...and I think a part of me wanted you to stop me. I wanted you to stop me from marrying Ron... And even though you didn't stop me in so many words, you _stopped_ me and... Merlin, Draco, say something," she begs. 

He grabs her around the waist, pulling her body flush against his. "Marry me," he whispers, pressing his forehead against hers. 

"W-what?" 

"Marry me. Run away with me, right now. Let's get hitched, start a brand new life-" 

"Whoa, whoa...slow down," she tells him softly. "I can't...I can't marry you, right now. I don't even know what this is, or what it means-" 

"I'm willing to find out," he whispers, his grey eyes searching her brown ones. 

"Me too," she whispers back. 

He grins, kissing her passionately and hungrily, like a starved man in a desert. She giggles when she pulls back and his lips follow hers, begging for more. 

"This is crazy," she laughs. "We're crazy." 

"Yes, well, I for one have never been happier." 

She smiles, tightening her arms around his shoulders. "Me either."


End file.
